Wednesday, March 16, 2011

If that's what it takes to praise you.

"Bring me joy, bring me peace,
bring the chance to be free,
bring me anything that brings you Glory.
And I know there'll be days when this life brings me pain,
But if that's what it takes to Praise you,
Jesus Bring the Rain."

Yes, this has been done once before. It's a little cliche. Angie Smith writes her blog, "Bring the Rain" from her own journey through child loss. But as cliche as it may sound, {using the chorus from the same song that inspired her blog title} as one christian angel mommy to the next... this song sums up exactly how we get through trials like this. Life without Savannah isn't easy, but from the bottom of my heart {a heart that really does praise Him through this} I still say, "Jesus Bring the Rain." This pain on earth will never measure up to the glory that awaits us through Him.

I have been asked this question. {Let me tell you, it is a devastating question to be asked.}

"Is something wrong with you?"

It is a hurtful question, but a question I feel a lot of women want to know. It is a hurtful question because I feel in my peace, and comfort through the loss of Savannah, people wonder if I ever really loved her at all. Because my heart doesn't ache to the point of world altering recognition, I must not have wanted her. I must not have bonded with her. I must not care. I've also been told, "that I didn't deserve her." 

I want to point something else out. I have met some wonderful women through this. Each who grieve differently. I don't judge, criticize, or try and fix anything. In the death of a child there aren't any fixes. I am there for each one of these empty mothers. I listen. I understand. I root, cheer, and encourage. Whether they are crying, laughing, or yelling on facebook. {Aren't we all notorious for letting our feelings out there on facebook?} Because that is the best medicine.  Support. Cheering. Empathy. Encouragement.

You wanna yell?
I will cheer you on.
Yell for the memory of your baby!
 You wanna cry? 
I will silently sit and carry your sorrows.
I will pray for the mother that can't hold her baby.
 You wanna laugh? 
Well... let's just say, I can make anyone laugh!
And if you have an unmeasurable faith in God?
I will never assume you didn't love your child.
I would never say you didn't deserve them.
After Savannah's funeral, I did go through my own stage of grief. This was ::frustration::. I know I spoke casually and briefly about this feeling in the first few months. Slowly the frustration I was feeling slowly subsided and I was able to express my emotions to some of the people who were causing these struggles. The other day, a feeling that I haven't felt since before Savannah's funeral resurfaced. And my heart ached to the point of feeling like I could no longer express myself. My thoughts were jumbled again, and I... in all honesty... just wanted to scream. I wanted to sit down with every family member and friend that I have and tell them exactly what my thoughts and feelings are with giving Savannah back. But I couldn't. I can't. I cannot gather everyone. I couldn't in that moment express exactly what I was feeling. Then in that moment, I was the grieving mother that announced my imploding and heavy heart emotions on... facebook

And there they were. The same girls I would be there for, in the reverse situation. Grieving mothers. And mother's who reached out to me when I started writing this farewell, and have grabbed onto my heart and will never let go. They cheered me on and talked me through, yet again, my frustration. 

And in this process the other day, those women helped me heal. They didn't tell me I was lashing out... They didn't say I shouldn't feel that way... They didn't try and direct my emotions elsewhere. They encouraged. They cheered. They held onto my sorrow with their warrior strength, until I was ready to let go. And in doing so, I finally was able to put words into my frustration. These words I feel need to be expressed here. Because in this journey that I am documenting... this frustration was my grief.

Obviously, my husband and I have not withheld the fact that God is the center of our life. In this, we feel and believe that His strength got us through. His glory brought Savannah into our lives. And His purpose brought her home. I don't care if you believe this or not. And I mean that in the nicest way possible. This is what we believe. This is what trust. And this is what we are instilling in our children. In her days on earth, Savannah was brought to know Him. We fulfilled our roles as her parents, and in that I am so proud. We did not cry while we held her during her final hour. We laughed throughout the story daddy shared as we mentioned silly things such as, "we don't know why we moved across the United States a second time." We came home that same night, and were greeted by concerned family members. We showed them her beautiful handprints, footprints, and hairclippings. We took our Savannah smelling blankets up to bed and went right to sleep. Yes, the first night having just held our baby in our arms as she died, we were at such a peace, neither one of us cried ourselves to sleep. Neither one of us cried. I clung to people telling me, "it is just shock, give it time." I kept waiting, anticipating that heartache I saw and read so many people experience. Day in and day out that rain cloud never consumed me. I finally realized that God was my umbrella. He was what consumed me, and it protected my heart from feeling complete emptiness. His word promises me that I will be with my Savannah again someday. 

I am so thankful for that, and owe Him my gratitude each and everyday. He never ceases to amaze me.

Anger with God is common. I understand why some people find themselves angry at Him. I believe that He understands as well. We can't always, and sometimes never see the bigger picture in what His plans are for us. In the good things sure, but the bad things aren't always as easy. I would never try to tell a mother that she couldn't be angry with Him. That is solely between God, and the mother or father He took the child from. In our situation though, {Savannah's death} I feel NO ONE should have a right to be angry at God for her sake. And this is why.

In our family we are not the only one who carry an "angel" in front of our titles.
{Mommy and Daddy}
We have an 
angel grandpa & grandma:: angel Grammy:: 
angel Granny & Pappy.
We have angel great grandmas.
We have angel cousins, angel aunts & angel uncles.
Ofcourse we have angel brothers, 
and an angel sister.

These are the family members who also lost something. We have all been granted an "angel" in from of our names. These family members love our children. They loved Savannah. They miss her. They've cried for her. I understand their heartache from the now missing family member. But all the same, we are her parents. We created this life, this person, this beautiful baby. For anybody close to us, I don't see what they have to be angry at God for? The parents of Savannah, the ones who would see her everyday, the ones who would feed her, nurture her, and raise her, the ones who think about these children every second of everyday for the rest of their lives... lift up their arms and Praise Him. Why are other family members punishing God for the plans that have been set for each of us since time began? For something the parents accept? Understand? We all have a time set for the end of our days. Savannah's time frame was short yes, but her life, her soul, was far more important. She still got to leave a mark.

I imagine my innocent, precious Savannah holding the hand of God. All the while her family members turn away from Him in their own selfish attitudes. She tugs at His side, and looks up at Him with her big beautiful brown eyes. Her tiny, delicate voice says, "I'm sorry God, they are only angry at you because of me." And in thinking of our heavenly baby apologizing for being the cause of someones hatred towards her maker? I get a little frustrated.

My baby may be dead, yes. But that doesn't mean I am not still a protective mother, in every aspect of that word. Mother.

To me, someone being angry at God
on behalf of my Savannah?
The one whom she belongs to?

If my daughter ever had to say,
"they are only angry at you because of me?"
 She might see that her existance
caused people to be angry with 
the Lord.

And as her mother, I do not like that.

She was here.
REJOICE in that.
Be envious that it only took her eight days,
to get to live in eternal perfection.
Savannah is rocked by angels,
and kissed by the Lord.

It frustrates me,
that people can be angry that
OUR daughter,
couldn't stay.

Couldn't stay;
Here in a world of murder.
Kidnapping.
Hate.

I will protect my others the best I can.
As my guardian role from God.
 Savannah?...

Savannah I don't have to worry about.
She is safe.

But I will still protect her in my heart.

Don't say sorry Savannah.
Don't you ever be sorry.

{{Jesus Bring the Rain.}}



4 comments:

Tiffany said...

wow. i can't believe someone who have the nerve to tell you that you didn't "deserve" your baby girl because of "how" you were grieving. it's hard for me to believe that anyone would be that bold. but unfortunately i now know that some people can be.

you are right. it isn't our place to judge each other. especially now as a grieving mother, i have no extra energy to focus on what someone is/isn't doing. it's hard enough to just get out of bed every day.

your posts are always so moving and powerful.

Melissa said...

Thank you for this post. Selfishly I find comfort in this post, as I have often struggled with the idea that maybe I am not sad enough...

I miss her so much, but I know that I will see her again and that she is safe and happy.

Your words echo in my heart today. We serve an awesome God.

charis said...

this is so powerful. i really respect you and your faith and just your testimony to both the goodness of God and in not placing all your hope in this life, but in eternity. you are such a powerful witness.

Holly said...

I love this post a lot b/c I feel very much the same way you do. I do not have very many hard days or moments. I have more joy than anything for knowing my daughter and having the time with her that I did.